


Someone For Always

by AnthroQueen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Eventual Smut, Evil Peter, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Protective Derek, Rutting, Shameless Smut, Smut, Some Plot, Vulnerable Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Derek, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4534272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnthroQueen/pseuds/AnthroQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is a dangerous place; Beacon Hills even more so. Local pack leader Derek Hale never wanted a mate. He'd been abandoned by too many people, watched too many loved ones die, and been betrayed more times than he could count- a mate was just a disaster waiting to happen. Imagine his frustration when his mate is not only human, but prone to sticking his nose where he shouldn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It All Starts With A Kiss...

The rain was pelting them, an endless torrent of cold needles stinging at their faces and arms. Two men ran through the cold November night, their path through the woods illuminated by the waxing moon above. The front running man was tall with broad shoulders, and he seemed to be almost dragging the other, thinner, shorter man along, judging by the progressively worse stumbling.

“Damnit, Stiles, hurry up!” Derek Hale, local alpha and general pain in Stiles ass, had been dragging him for the last mile and a half, and probably hadn’t even noticed. Stiles, for all that he was upright, was having a hard time keeping the forest from dancing and changing colors. Stupid sourwolf. Albeit had been Stiles fault that the Hunters had caught sight of them, but it had been Derek’s idea to stay and spy rather than run and hide. Stupid sourwolf. Stupid, sexy, wavy sourwolf. 

Derek turned to look at Stiles, as though he’d said the last out loud. Had he? Maybe. He couldn’t tell, not with the leather of Derek’s jacket rushing to meet his face.

#

Stiles fell forward, collapsing against Derek’s chest. The scent hit him them. A vicious snarl ripped out of Derek’s throat. He hadn’t smelled it over the rain- one of the Hunters had darted Stiles. He looked down and, sure enough, jutting obtrusively from the small of Stiles back was a little dart. 

“Shit..!” Derek hoisted Stiles up into his arms, hearing the heavy footfalls that were starting to gain on them. “You picked a fine time to pass out, human!” He grouched as he took off into the woods, putting on the burst of speed that hauling a human had kept at bay. They reached the Jeep in what Derek would consider good time, and, even better, the sounds of the Hunters had faded away.

Derek bustled Stiles into the Jeeps’ passenger side, taking a moment to pull the dart out of his back. He slammed the door, jumped behind the wheel on the other side, slammed that door for good measure, and sent the car peeling down the wet, leafy gravel road.

They reached the Hale estate quickly, Derek broke so many traffic laws. But worry gnawed at him, side by side with annoyance and desire. The closed confines of the Jeep were filled to bursting with Stiles scent, a musty minty madness. Derek had been trying for weeks to keep his distance from the human friend of his newest wolf, but he seemed to stick his nose into everything, like a puppy. 

Derek parked the car as close as he could get to the front door, hoping to spare Stiles some rain exposure. He braced his head against the steering wheel, taking a moment to try and organize his thought, taking a deep breath. He knew that was a mistake the second the air touched his tongue. He could taste Stiles. Mint, rain, and the stupid gel he used on his hair. It was like the strongest aphrodisiac he’d ever encountered, like a punch of desire straight to his cock.

Derek didn’t remember moving, but suddenly he was leaning over Stiles very still form, his nose buried in the hair behind Stiles’ ear. He was drowning in scents, the smell of the tranq barely registering in the mire that was Dereks senses. Growling he pulled away from Stiles, his breaths hard as he fought off the strangeness that was fogging his mind. What was even happening to him..? When he looked back at Stiles, the man’s eyes were open and staring at him. They weren’t terribly focused, more hazed than anything, but there seemed to be an intent in them.

“You smell like honey and moonlight,” he said, a goofy smile spreading over his face. He leaned forward, throwing his arms sloppily around Derek’s shoulders, unaware that his touch was sending the Alpha’s heart stuttering in his chest. “You always seem to pull me along, sourwolf.” Then Stiles left a sloppy, wet kiss right on Derek’s cheek.

Derek turned his head into the kiss, locking his lips with Stiles. The light contact, mixed with the heady aroma of Stiles filing the car, had just been too much for the wolf. He pushed into the kiss, sliding his hand around to cup the back of Stiles neck, pushing the other man up against the back of the seat. He could smell the tinge of Stiles arousal mix with all the other scents in the car.

A burning started around his heart, merging with the burning between his legs. The burning continued even as Stiles slumped under the effects of the tranq, and Derek let him slide away from his lips and onto the leather of the seat.Derek braced himself against the passengers door, panting, and waited for the burning to subside. The fuck..?

He slipped out of the Jeep, stumbling a bit and went for Scott, undoubtedly asleep on his sofa, to take care of the unconscious Stiles. Derek needed space to breathe in and think that wasn't permeated with the minty madness of Stiles Stilinkski.


	2. Easy As Pie

Stiles woke up in a bed that wasn’t his, in clothes he didn’t recognize, under blankets that smelled like Derek. His mouth felt like a cotton swab desert, and his eyes felt tacky. He pushed himself upright, mentally cataloguing the minor bruises, the super tender spot near his derriere, and a vague sense of lethargy. To his left, maybe five feet away, was Scott, his best friend, sleeping in a chair that had probably been carried up from the living room- a  large wingback monstrosity that had no place in a bedroom.

He grabbed the pillow he wasn’t using and hurled it at his friend. He turned his body into the throw, not certain it would go the distance. Whap! It smacked into Scott’s chest, the end flipping up to smack him in the face as he jerked awake.

“Water,” Stiles croaked, feeling the words stick and scrape his throat on the way out. Scott picked up a bottle of water, conveniently located next to him instead of next to Stiles, who needed it, and brought it over to him. Stiles took the bottle and chugged it. He coughed a bit at the end, swallowing too fast. “Thanks.”

“Dude, what happened last night?” Scott sat on the edge of the bed, eyes glued to Stiles face, as if there would be some secret hiding there. “Derek had me haul your unconscious ass out of the Jeep and then took off. He had your scent all over him, and he looked… frustrated.” Scott’s words were laced with innuendo- bastard even tried to wiggle his eyebrows (he failed, naturally, and ended up just lifting them up and down with a dorky grin on his face), but Stiles brain was too fuzzy to catch all of it. He sensed it was there, but he was just too groggy to care. He frowned at Scott, pointedly.

“I got tranqed in the ass by a Hunter because wolfboy wanted to see what they were up to and my stupid self decided to stick around and help him out because obviously he couldn’t be left by himself.” Stiles frowned harder, turning his gaze from Scott’s disappointed eyes to the covers tangled around his legs.

He couldn’t remember what happened after that. He figured Derek had carried him back to the Jeep (which would explain why Stiles scent had been all over him), and he felt like there was something else, something that had happened after. Stiles closed his eyes and tried to focus on the memories, but all he could catch was that distinct scent that was all Derek - like honey and something fresh and pure, like snow under moonlight. His heart sped up at the almost memory, and … nothing! Ugh. Stiles scoffed at his own thoughts to cover his disappointment with his memory- way to wax romantic over a wolf who could care less.

#

Derek watched Scott and Stiles climb into Stiles Jeep from the relative safety of the treeline, his body mostly obscured from view with the giant oak. He knew that Scott could scent him, saw his beta sniffing the air and trying to pinpoint his location before giving up and ducking into the vehicle. Derek’s heart was pounding in his chest as he watched Stiles drive away. It wasn’t the burn he’d felt the night before, but there was a definite warmth spreading through his chest.

Derek took a few deep breaths, waiting for Stiles’ Jeep to clear the road before heading into the house. He went up to his room, falling onto his bed and wrapping his blankets around himself, breathing in the minty smell of Stiles, letting it suffuse his body, letting the budding warmth grow. It didn’t reach the burning level, not around his heart, anyways. But the Stiles scented blankets were certainly giving him a boner to cut steel with. He groaned, tearing his way out of the blankets and headed for the bathroom. Maybe a cold shower would shed some light on the issue.

#

By the time Derek had emerged from the shower, his mind was reeling from remembered conversations. His wolf had established a mate-bond. With a human. With Stiles. He whined a bit in the back of his throat as he went about getting dressed. Just what he needed. A mate that was vulnerable to attack always. And had a penchant for being nosy. It would be the death of them both, this bond.

It hadn’t “taken”, not yet. That wouldn’t happen unless they had sex. Derek’s face burned and the erection he’d just gotten rid of popped back to life at the thought. He growled at the thought, his fingers clutching around the hardwood edges of his dresser, thinking about the way it would feel. Stiles neck under his mouth, Stiles body under his, moaning, begging him to… The sound of the top of his dresser buckling pulled him out of the fantasy. Derek cursed brushing the splinters of wood off his hands.

He couldn’t mate with Stiles. Not ever. Stiles was too vulnerable, and if he were to become Derek’s mate- it was for life. Literally. If one died, the other would as well, and considering the number of people who wanted Derek dead… He groaned. He wanted Stiles. Badly. More than he’d realized before. Which was quite a bit given how good the bastard smelled.

Derek sat down on his bed, putting his head in his hands. Think. The bond had been established when they kissed, but it wouldn’t become permanent until they had sex. So, if Derek could keep Stiles away from him, and un-mated until the bond wore off, problem solved. Nobody knew about the bond but him. Scott would smell it but, as a made-wolf and not a born-wolf, he wouldn’t know what the smell meant. Derek could do this. He could keep Stiles at arms length, keep him safe, and not have sex with him. Easy as pie. Too bad he never learned to bake.


	3. It's Starting to Get A Little Smutty

The next few weeks were a torment for Derek. He Stayed away from Stiles as much as he could, honestly, but he was always at the edge of wherever Stiles was, watching. Stiles was in class? Derek was hanging out on the quad, unobtrusively sitting under a tree. Stiles was at home? Derek would swing by with Scott, drop him off and hang out, unobtrusively, of course, in the back yard, back to a tree. At least, this is how Derek saw it.

Or it was, until, about two weeks after the kiss, Stiles marched out into his backyard and right up to Derek. Derek heard him coming, could smell his irritation. Moon help him, he thought it was cute. Stiles smacked Derek on the shoulder, shoving the taller man back into the tree.

“What is your problem, dude?” Derek blinked. Of all the scenarios he’d thought of, this one hadn’t made the cuts. He glowered down at Stiles, trying to keep up the facade of dislike for the other man. It was really hard though- listening to the erratic heartbeat that told him how nervous Stiles was confronting him, smelling the sweet mint of Stiles skin so close he could probably bend down and taste it, watching the way Stiles lips formed words… It was all Derek could do not to moan, but he somehow managed to keep the glower on his face and the moan tucked away.

“Excuse me?”

“You. What is your problem?” Stiles shoved his finger into Derek’s chest for emphasis. Derek raised an eyebrow, worried that they were about to have to have the conversation Derek had been hoping to avoid. He sighed.

“Look, Stiles…” But Stiles interrupted.

“Don’t you ‘Look, Stiles’ me! You’ve been following Scott around for the last few weeks like you’re afraid he’s going to go off and rip someone apart! Let up, will ya! Scott’s doing fine with the whole transition thing, and he hasn’t hurt anybody at all, and, ok, yea, he broke a door knob last week, but..” derek tuned Stiles out, blinking in disbelief at what he was hearing. Stiles thought he was following Scott..?!

#

Stiles barely had time to gulp back the next flood of words when Derek grabbed him, hauling him up against the older boys body, turning him around, and pressing him flush with both the tree and Derek’s own hard form. The swallow he made was audible, even to his human ears. And being pressed so close to Derek was making him uncomfortably aware of how attractive he found him, how good he smelled, the sweat that was gathering on his chest. Stiles licked his lips, cleared his throat, trying to remain calm. Trying to mentally keep his cock from informing Derek just how happy he was to be there. Shit. Werewolf could probably smell it. Stiles peeked up at Derek’s face.

Derek’s eyes were awash in red, slitted down so that Stiles could barely tell they were open. His lips were parted and he seemed to be panting. One hand slid up Stiles chest to wrap around his throat, tightening, pushing his head to the side, exposing his neck. The other slid around his waist, pulling Stiles into even more firm contact with every hard ridge of Derek’s body as he was pushed harder up against the bark of the tree.

Derek buried his face in the curve of Stiles neck, his hot breath washing over the soft skin. Stiles almost passed out. It felt so good, so right, being wrapped in Derek’s arms, his scent washing over him, his… Oh. My. God. Stiles eyes popped open from where they’d begun to drift closed. He could feel it. Pressed against his belly. Derek’s… Oh, my. Stiles felt a soft whine being pulled from his throat in response to the knowledge that somehow he’d managed to give the sourwolf a boner. Derek growled in response, the vibrations traveling down Stiles neck and spine.  

“I will do whatever I damn well please with my pack,” he snarled. Stiles could feel his teeth grazing the flesh of his neck when Derek spoke, sharp, not quite human. It didn’t help the boner in his pants at all. If anything the almost danger of those teeth made Stiles tremble with more need.

#

Derek had to get away from Stiles. He knew that. He should issue some sort of open ended threat about minding his own business, drop the guy, and get away from the intoxicating smell of Stiles arousal before he said or did something that would be regretted later. But he kept standing there, holding him, breathing in his scent, panting openly on his neck. His chest was burning and his cock felt like a rock rod stuffed in his pants.

Let go of the Stiles and step away, he told himself. He repeated it mentally like a mantra for a whole minute. Then Stiles started to move. Or rather wiggle. Whether he was trying to wiggle away or closer, Derek really couldn’t tell. And his wolf really didn’t care.

He snarled, open mouthed against the soft column of Stiles throat, grinding his hips against the other mans’, rubbing their jean clad erections together. Stiles whimpered and rolled his hips into Derek’s, like he was trying to drive him mad. It wouldn’t take much, Derek was sure of that. His hand slid around to the back of Stiles head, no longer holding his throat captive. He lifted his head, eyes a red sea when he looked down at his mate. The only thing he could hear was Stiles heart beating loud as a drum and fast as a rabbits. That and the howls of his beast, demanding that he take what was his, what had always been his. Claim his mate. Claim him. Claim Stiles.

He shook his head roughly. NO. He couldn’t do that. Wait, why couldn’t he? There was a reason. He whined in the back of his throat, gyrating his hips against Stiles, pushing him against the tree, increasing the friction on their erections. Stiles moaned into his ear. It was like a bolt of fire to his cock. Derek let go of Stiles, but just to trap him more efficiently. He dug his fingers into the tree on either side of Stiles, pushing his claws deep. Then he kissed him.

Derek was soft at first, brushing his lips gently against Stiles, swearing to himself that that was it. Just a kiss. Just a little kiss and he’d let him go. Then Stiles licked his lips and whimpered. Who could resist such full, plump, wanting lips? Who could say no to such a needy sound? Not Derek, for sure.

He pressed harder, forcing Stiles mouth open with his own, plundering it with his tongue. He broke off for air once, twice. But always coming back. Stiles hands were clutching at his chest, their hips were grinding against each other. Harder and faster. Derek kissed him again and again, his scent driving him to that fine edge of control.

“Derek..!” Stiles voice was a whine of need. Derek could smell it in the air. He was close, so close. Derek gripped the tree harder, fighting his instincts, fighting the driving need he had to rip off Stiles jeans, bend him over, and fuck him. Claim him. Mark him. But he couldn’t stop his hips from  moving.

“Come for me,” he growled, his lips against Stiles ear, his cock grinding against Stiles’. “Come for me..!” He snarled, biting back the word 'mate'. Derek’s wolf was at the forefront now. Demanding, needing, whining. Derek’s mouth ached. He heard the hitch it Stiles breathe, felt the whimper that whined up his throat, felt the orgasm grip him. Derek was far from satisfied, and his wolf was enraged at being denied. At the moment that Derek smelled Stiles orgasm peak, he bit him. Derek fought down the branding mark, fought to make it just a mark of teeth. He could feel the burning in his throat, but he swallowed it down- pushing away the brand with technicalities and details that made his wolf howl- letting only his teeth sink into Stiles shoulder.

 

 


	4. Playing His Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look for next update on Sunday, August 30th!

Stiles didn’t see Derek for a while after the Incident in his backyard. Oh, the occasional glimpse of him around campus or the sound of his car peeling away when he dropped off Scott, but nothing substantial. And he didn’t have the bastards’ number, so it’s not like he could call him to talk about what had happened. Stiles chewed on the eraser of his mechanical pencil. Not that he wanted to. Because he totally didn’t. Stiles snorted. He was such a bad liar.

Whatever, it had been almost two weeks since then and the sourwolf had yet to show his stupid, beautiful face. Stiles doodled in his math notebook, realizing he should probably be taking notes, and unable to care. Instead he drew a pair of intense eyes that looked oddly like the wolfs’ he wasn’t thinking about. Goddamnit.

Ok, so maybe he’d been thinking about what had happened non-stop for the last two weeks and was walking around with an almost permanent boner. But what was he supposed to do?! The guy he’d been crushing on for months, albeit secretly, though maybe not as secretly as he’d have liked because it was obvious enough that Scott of all people had caught on… Whatever! What had the Incident meant? To Derek? For them? Was there a them? Did Derek like him or had it been a pity-hump? Gods, please don’t let it have been a pity-hump…

Stiles gnawed on his lip for the rest of the period, no longer even keeping up the pretense of taking notes. When the bell rang he sighed, gathering his books and heading for his jeep. The school day was done and he had had yet another day where the only thing he’d accomplished was to work his heart into a frenzy over a wolf who probably couldn’t care less. Probably.

#

A funny jangle sounded from Stiles phone as he pulled up to the stoplight. He glanced down at it, noting the text. It wasn’t from someone he recognized. He frowned, darting a glance back up to assure himself the light was still red, and picked up the phone. A few presses on the touch screen popped the message up for viewing.

 

**Stiles. It’s Derek. I need you. Meet @ the school pool.**

Stiles heart pounded, his eyes narrowing to focus on three little words: I. Need. You. For a moment he was tempted to text back : Screw you, sourwolf. But only for a moment, a second really. The truth was his heart was pounding, his hands were sweating, and he felt the odd need to cry with relief. It hadn’t been out of pity, Derek felt something, too, surely. Stiles pulled into the next parking lot he saw to facilitate a U-turn, heading back the way he’d come, a quick flick of his fingers over the screen sending his reply:

 

**B ther soon.**

#

Derek’s phone pinged, telling him someone must be thinking of him- a text. The number wasn’t public knowledge, in fact there was only one person who had it. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, wondering what Scott would want at 4 in the afternoon on a Wednesday. He blinked at the unfamiliar number and frowned, opening the message. It read:

 

**The wolf is away, his uncle will play.**

**The human left alone, soon naught but bones.**

**Come and play, nephew.**

 

Derek’s heart stopped, skittering back into a full gallop. His throat squeezed shut, his focus narrowing down to the tiny screen in front of him. No. No way. It was a lie, surely. He’d just seen Stiles leaving for home in his Jeep. No way.

His phone pinged again. A picture message. He fingers shook as he opened it. It was a picture of Stiles, sitting in his Jeep. Right. Outside. Derek’s. House.

Derek snarls down at his phone, eyes flashing to red. He can feel them burning with his rage, can feel his wolf, like a tangible panic fueled malice in his chest, growling and snapping. That sonofabitch..! He had Stiles. His fucking uncle had Stiles. Derek breathed through his mouth, panting, trying to keep his fingers from curling around the phone and crushing it. Control it! He snapped at himself, felt his wolf snapping back.

His uncle always wanted something, and a dead Stiles wouldn’t garner him anything except a very enraged Alpha. Stiles was safe, for the moment. On the same hand, it didn’t do to keep his uncle waiting… Derek slammed the door on his car shut, peeling out of the school parking lot, so hell bent on finding his mate that he missed the Jeep pulling back into the parking lot.

#

Stiles pushed open the door to the school pool, taking a moment to orient his breathing when he got caught with a face full of steamy, chlorinated air. His stomach was a mess of knots, jumping and trembling in anticipation, and, yes, a little fear. _I need you_. Those words could be taken in any number of ways. There could be a new trouble in town. Or something going down with Scott. Who was also not in class today. Or it could be a clandestine lovers rendezvous. Probably not that last one but, fuck, a guy could dream right..?

Stiles cheeks were heating up to a nice cherry red when he stepped fully into the pool room. No Derek yet. Typical sourwolf, always making people wait on him. Stiles shrugged, turning to sit on the bleachers, located at the back of the pool room. And ran directly into thick muscled chest. He stumbled back, his feet slipping, arms windmilling- there was no hope, he fell into the pool.

He came up sputtering and glaring. Wiping his eyes, he got ready to give that wolf a lecture about sneaking up on people and choosing locations more suited to their needs. Except when his watered eyes finally focused on the figure standing at the edge of the pool, it wasn’t Derek. No the cocky, smug smile that he adored was nothing like the cocky, smug smile that was filling him with utter terror. He’s pretty sure his heart stopped for a whole 5 seconds before resuming with a pounding that could have out done the marching band.

“Hello, Stiles,” Peter said, smiling down at him. “I wonder if you’ve seen my nephew today?”

#

Derek tore through the house, his nose telling him they were there. He could smell Stiles, faintly, and his uncle, stronger. The smells seemed almost to mingle together, merging in some spots, chasing in circles. He burst through every door, snarling, his rage building with every empty room.

Calm down! Derek tried to pull himself together, stopping his angry pace. He stopped in the entry hall, closing his eyes, and just breathed. Follow the scent to its source. Breathe. Calm. He picked the trail that was strongest in the circling scents, his suspicions growing that something was not right. He’d been in every room, and his uncle had yet to come out to challenge him, Stiles had yet to call out. Something was not right.

He followed the scent into the living room, over to a corner, and into a garbage bag. He ripped the bag open to find the blanket from Stiles bedroom and his uncles jacket. Derek’s heart sputtered. A decoy. A trick. But not a trap. At least, not for him. His beast grabbed him, throwing him out the nearest window and into the woods, back towards town, completely uncaring of the sun not yet sunk below the horizon- his mate was in danger.


	5. Saving Stiles

Derek’s nose led him unerringly through the town, back to the school, eliciting some sharp cries from the janitors and lingering teachers when his wolf shape exploded through one of the doors. His claws scrambled on the hard, slick floor, taking a moment to gain purchase before bolting again.  He was human when he hit the door to the pool room. Mostly, at least. His eyes were still a-glow with red flames, his fangs still descended, and his fingers curled at the tips with wicked claws.

When he burst through the door, the first thing he saw was his uncle, standing calmly at the side of the pool. Beyond him, face down in the water, red jacket blazing like a sun against the pale blue of the water, was Stiles. As much as Derek wanted to rip limbs off his uncle’s body, the sight of Stiles limp form was a horror he couldn’t bear waiting to remedy. He shoved past his uncle and dove into the pool.

He reached Stiles with just a single kick, wrapping his arms around the thinner body, turning him, lifting him out of the water. He kicked back to the side of the pool, lifting Stiles out, following quickly behind. The sight of his mate- his clumsy, incorrigible, spastic mate- lying on the tile of the pool room with blue lips and no breath was an undoing for Derek. He could feel a madness building in his chest, feel himself fighting for air, for control.

“What have you done?” He whispered it, the words barely squeezing out of the confines of his throat, his fingers shredding the material of Stiles jacket as he strove to control his beast. The next time he spoke it was a scream that bordered on madness. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

Peter stared at Derek, seemingly unmoved by the tears opening trailing down his nephew’s face, untouched by the erraticness of his prodigy’s heartbeat. “What have I done?” Peter curled his lip at Derek, at Stiles. “I’ve saved you.”

Derek realized then that his uncle was completely mad. Realized then that the fire had broken more in him than Derek had ever realized. He turned his back on the only family he had left and looked down at Stiles, his mate, and for the first time in more years than he cared to count, he prayed. Not to God or the universe, but to anything that might be listening. Please, he prayed. Please, let me save him.

He applied his hands to Stiles chest, pumping, straight armed. He turned Stiles head to face the ceiling and pressed his lips to the cold blue petals of Stiles mouth, breathing for them both. Chest, mouth, chest. Finally, finally, Stiles coughed, wheezed, vomited water and what looked like breakfast onto the cold tiles. Derek’s eyes were starved for the sight of Stiles breathing but he whipped his gaze to his uncle, barring his teeth, daring the other Alpha to make a move, promising he’d regret it. Peter simply raised an eyebrow.

“He’ll betray you, eventually. You know that,” Peter said as he started walking away, disdain dripping from his voice like venom from a viper’s fang. “All humans are deceivers- weak willed cattle with black hearts. He’ll betray you, break you, and then you’ll beg me to kill him. Just. Like. Kate.” The pool door clicked closed on those words and Derek’s heart knew that the chill he’d felt before, the creeping dread, was nothing like the weight of the knowledge that now sat heavy on his heart. Oh, he wasn’t worried about Stiles betraying him, not really. He was worried about Peter trying again on his life, but even that was second to the concern of anyone finding out about Kate… No, that didn’t bear thinking on.

#

Stiles could breathe. He wept. His chest burned and pinched, his lungs still constricted with fears. He saw Derek’s face over him, was sure he saw tears drying on the older man’s face. He tried to reach up to touch them but his arms were so tired. His throat felt like someone had scrubbed the interior with a Brillo pad and then force fed him an entire desert, cacti included, but he had something to say.

“You’re late,” the words were soft and gravelly, but he knew Derek heard. He knew because that damn sourwolf growled at him. He smiled, and watched his vision tunnel down to darkness.

When he awoke next it was only for a second, just long enough to register that they were in Derek’s Camaro. He dimly acknowledged that he was probably getting the seat soaked. The follow up thought was that he didn’t care. Darkness claimed him once more.

Then he opened his eyes to brightness. Lights. Home. He was home. He groggily turned his head, trying to orient himself a bit better, but he was bobbing up and down and the feeling of vomit swelling in his throat forced him to squeeze his eyes shut. Stairs, he realized dimly. Derek was carrying him up the stairs to his room. That was nice.

Derek stripped him down to nothing. Stiles thought he heard the other man groan, a few swift intakes of breath, but seeing as he was weaving where he stood, he wasn’t sure his hearing was a reliable thing. A pair of dry flannel pants and a warm cotton t-shirt were pulled gently over his limbs before he was lifted again- a bit unnecessarily, he might add. He’s almost sure he could make it to his bed on his own. Then Derek tucks him under the covers and he doesn’t care about anything else. He can feel Derek’s hand running softly, almost lovingly, over his hair.

“I’ll be downstairs,” Derek said, his voice it’s usual gruff and terse burst of words. Stiles tries to keep his eyes open, to say something, to stay awake, but, even with his heart still hammering and his brain screaming, the day has just been too much for him. His eyes crash shut before Derek finishes closing the door.

#

Derek closed the door softly, not willing to pull it completely shut and separate himself even farther from the frantic heartbeat that was shifting his whole world. He crept down the stairs to the living room, collapsing onto the sofa, scrubbing his hands over his face as his mind chased the evenings events through his head.

He’d never been so scared in his life as when he’d pulled an unbreathing Stiles out of the pool. His hands were still shaking. He’d been trying for weeks to keep Stiles at a distance. Figured if he wasn’t with him, Stiles would be safe. He should’ve known better. Should’ve known Peter would smell the bond, even if Stiles was clueless as ever. Derek’s lips tipped up just the tiniest bit at the thought. His mate-bond was truly the most oblivious human ever.

Derek threw an arm across his face with a groan, thinking back to when he’d discovered the bond himself. It had been raining and being trapped in the Jeep with Stiles and his scent. Gods, just thinking about it made him hard for that walking disaster. He’d slipped up. A single crack in his facade and now the world was crashing down around him. A single kiss, hot and demanding and he’d barely managed to pull back before it became more. He still wasn’t sure how he had. Not that it mattered, seeing as he hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself in Stiles backyard. That was probably why Peter had had such an easy time scenting Stiles out- he’d been covered in Derek’s scent, which was nothing like Stiles own scent. Stiles had a scent that would drive a monk to sin, and those lips…

Derek cursed and sat up, disgusted with himself all over again. Stiles was upstairs, recovering from the closest brush with death he’d had, and Derek was downstairs, popping a tent over his lips. He leaned back into the sofa, staring at the ceiling, and willed morning to come faster.

#

He awoke to screams, his screams, and he couldn’t stop. There were hands holding him down, someone yelling his name, begging him to wake up. Wake up. No he was awake, he was drowning. The pool, Peter… The screams stop because it’s Derek leaning over him, Derek’s eyes that are wide and red as crimson lights, Derek’s hands holding him down. Derek wouldn’t hurt him, not really. Stiles tries to take a deep breath, tries to get enough air, but it’s like breathing through a straw, and his chest is tight with panic.

His mind was a muddled mess and he wasn’t sure of anything. Not where he was or what had happened. He knew it was night; the room was black as pitch. He knew that Derek was there. The rest was a mess, a train of thought that kept looping back on itself, crashing into itself.

“Derek,” he managed to gasp out, his chest heaving with sobs. He couldn’t breathe. Derek lifted Stiles up like he was a child, pulling him into his lap as he settled himself on the bed. He held Stiles carefully, settling the thinner man between his legs and against his chest, leaning back against the headboard.

“Just breathe, Stiles,” Derek said, his voice hoarse and pinched, as though with fear or concern. Derek was petting back Stiles sweat matted hair with one hand, his other wrapped firmly around Stiles belly. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

It took Stiles a minute and many more gulping gasps before he was able to shudder in a normal breath. Derek just kept petting his hair, silent as a stone, comforting as a weighted blanket. He cried a little, he knew, could feel the tears on his face. The rest was a daze. Stiles felt the soft pressure of a kiss on his temple, but that couldn’t be. It was probably just Derek’s hand pushing Stile’s hair out of his face. He thought he felt the wet, rough, warmth of a tongue licking the tears from his cheeks, but that was probably just the shock. It was probably a rag. Yea, a rag that smelled like Derek Hale… 


	6. Is This What Heaven Feels Like..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so short! Wanted to upload today, but life interrupted, so it's a bit shorter than intended.

When Stiles woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of Derek. He was wrapped in that scent, honey and woodsmoke and what he imagined moonlight would smell like if it had a scent- crisp. The smell was wrapped around his head like a halo, was warm against his cheek. It was holding him in the sweetest of embraces… Wait. Stiles dragged his eyes open, the lids tacky with tears and sleep.

Lying on Stiles bed, on his side, fucking snuggling Stiles, was Derek. It wasn’t the warmth of Derek’s scent that Stiles had been pillowing his head on, it was Derek’s very firm bicep. I hadn’t been the sweet scent of honey embracing him, that was also Derek, one arm wrapped around Stiles waist, snuggling him in the shape of the larger mans body. Their legs were tangled together and there was no way for Stiles climb out of the bed without waking up the other man.

Not that Stiles wanted to get up. He imagined if there was a heaven, this is what it would feel like to him. Derek’s body, just a shade too warm, wrapped around him, happy and content to be there. Derek’s scent would be everywhere. Every flower, every ray of moonlight, would smell like him. But that’s not what Derek wants. He’d made that relatively clear. And waking up in bed next to Stiles was probably not his idea of heaven.

Stiles heart constricted, his lungs pinching in panic. The previous night flashed behind his eyelids when he screwed them shut. Only now his panic superimposed a stoic Derek at the edge of the pool, watching Stiles drown. No, no, no..! Stiles started to shake, his breathes fast and erratic, not getting enough air. His heart beat like a drum. Calm down, calm down, didn’t happen, didn’t happen..! He opened his eyes, trying to focus on something, anything. Red. Derek’s eyes were open and washed with alpha red.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice, rough with sleep, called his name softly, like a promise, soothing as a balm on his heart. “Calm down. Focus on me.” Derek’s hand, attached to the pillow arm, reached up and cradled Stiles cheek. Stiles almost closed his eyes at the feeling. “Focus. Breathe.”

Stiles focused on Derek’s eyes, holding that contact despite the physical need he had to look away, to hide the emotions in his eyes, lest Derek see to much. Like how much Stiles needed to see him, everyday. Like how waking up in Derek’s arms had felt like heaven. Like how much touching him, smelling him, seeing him, set Stiles body ablaze. Like how much a boulder in the sea Derek was for Stiles tumultuous thoughts. It was all right there in Stiles eyes, but he focused on Derek and breathed. The panic went away, slowly, seeping back into the darker corners of Stiles mind, waiting, like it always did.

Finally, he looked down and away, knowing his cheeks were stained with a faint blush. He couldn’t help it and was too tired to care. Stupid, sexy, wonderful sourwolf could probably smell it on him. Smell every last stinking emotion.

Derek gave a rumbling growl, an almost contented sound, that slid down Stiles spine like a tongue. Stiles shivered. He needed out of that bed before his desires became anymore apparent. Except that Derek wasn’t loosening his grip now that he was awake, as Stiles had expected him to do. Oh no, Derek was cuddling Stiles even closer, wedging their bodies to touch on every centimeter of available space.

“You’re right,” Derek mumbled into Stiles hair, his voice a sigh of contentment. Or maybe that was Stiles wishful hearing. Either way, it sparked a tiny flame of hope in Stiles heart. As well as a flare of panic. How many of those thoughts had been out loud this time..? “I can smell…” Derek’s nose nuzzled down the outside of Stiles face. Stiles’ eyes closed to half mast in pure bliss. “...every…” His lips were at Stiles ear, teeth catching the lobe briefly before his lips laid a soft kiss on Stiles jaw. Stiles whimpered, and Derek’s breath caught. “...single…” A light kiss on the pale column of Stiles neck. “... one.”

Derek bit down on Stiles neck, gently, teeth closing lightly on the jugular vein where Stiles heart was beating like a frightened rabbits. Stiles’ eyes slid shut on a moan, and Derek swept Stiles beneath his larger frame, teeth stilled gently locked, hips settling snugging between Stiles thighs. The contact of Dereks’ body between his legs made Stiles whimper and bite his lip, unable to stop his own hips from rolling gently upwards, his whole body suddenly needy. He wanted Derek. Wanted to know every inch of that finely toned machine of a body, wanted to feel him moving inside of him, because if he had died yesterday, he knows now that not knowing would have been his greatest regret.


	7. The Wolf's Mate

Derek’s world had narrowed down to Stiles. He’d laid next to the other man, their bodies entwining naturally while they slept, Stiles scent covering everything in the room, covering him. Now his teeth were literally holding Stiles life captive. He could feel it fluttering, begging. He hadn’t meant to bite Stiles just now, hadn’t meant to tease. He’d meant to pull the boy back from his panic attack and then slip down to the kitchen. But watching Stiles eyes, seeing all the emotions flitting across those honeyed pools, smelling everything… It had been too much for the wolf prowling through him.

His heart was hammering like a herd of elephants in his chest, slamming against his ribs almost painfully. Stiles scent, wafting motes of affection and arousal, was smothering him with need. He needed to leave. He couldn’t stay. Couldn’t mate with Stiles. The mate-bond could kill them both, one more easily than the other. He couldn’t risk it. But he couldn’t make his wolf see reason. It was drowning him in Stiles scent, his mates scent, and his mate was in need. Why was he denying him?

“Derek…” Stiles voice was a plea, his long, slim fingers trailing like nervous butterflies up Derek’s arms, then down again, up, then down his sides. Derek growled low in his throat as his wolf arched his body into the touch, reveling in the acceptance of his mate. He turned the arch into a wave with his body, dry thrusting against Stiles ass. He wanted to grind his teeth in frustration. Almost did when the pained whimper brought him back to focus. Derek opened his mouth, releasing the frantic beat of Stiles heart. The faintest smell of blood mixed with the other scents in the room, teasing the wolf already frothing inside. Derek’s snarled, burying his face in Stiles neck, his tongue licking the tiny wounds he’d made. His fingers, tipped in the sharp claws of his breed, ripped the edges of Stiles pajama bottoms, shredding the elastic on either side.

Stiles body jerked with the suddenness, with the violence, of the motion. Derek could hear Stiles heart, could feel it’s pounding on his own chest. He could smell the arousal, the fear. Fear. That was the scent that hooked it’s fingers into Dereks nostrils and jerked him down. He leaned back, shaking his head, trying to clear the mix of scents.

“Stiles..?” Derek shook his head harder.

“I’m here, big guy.” Stiles voice sounded unsure, breathy, distant. Focus! What was going on..? Derek’s eyes focused on the shredded material of Stiles pajamas, the tatters of the sheet that had gotten in the way.

“Stiles, you need to go.” Derek was not in control right now. Watching Stiles almost die, sleeping beside him, holding him… It was too much. If Stiles didn’t leave, Derek would claim him.

#

Stiles could feel the tension thrumming through Derek’s body, knew on some level that those words were costing him. Stiles stared up at Derek. He’d known Derek for a while now, had seen the wolf break out during fits of rage, and he’d never seen a moment when Derek hadn’t been in control of his wolf. But something was different. Something about Stiles was driving Derek’s wolf up the wall. Stiles heart pounded.

“I can smell your fear!” Derek snarled, pushing Stiles down against the bed, trying to make a point. “You aren’t safe and you’re afraid! Leave!”

Stiles took a steadying breath. It was now or never. He’d thought this morning that he’d give anything to feel Derek inside him. That it would be his one regret. And this was his best chance. Derek wanted him, he knew that much. Could feel it, hello. Could he do this? Accept the seriously beastly part of Derek? The scary part? If he could, it meant he’d get all the fun parts too. His lips smiled just a bit.

“What else?” He challenged.

#

“What else?” Derek frowned, confused. The confusion pushed his wolf back, just a bit. Stiles raised an eyebrow calmly at Derek, his lips quirked up in that cocky grin of his. Derek wanted to kiss that stupid smile right off his face. “What else do you smell?” Derek sat back on his feet. He knew what Stiles was asking. But, gods, he didn’t want to answer. He knew where that answer would lead and he was afraid for both of them. Stiles didn’t know enough to be afraid, to be wary. Stiles sat up, his hand reaching to cup the furred warmth of Derek’s cheek. Derek’s eyes slid closed as both he and his wolf laid their head in Stiles palm.

“Desire. Excitement. Need.” Stiles whispered the words, sliding his hand from cheek to hair, threading his fingers through the short shag. “And yes, fear. Mostly of the unknown but yes a little bit of you, too. And you saved me. And I almost died. So do me a favor and stop trying to make up my mind for me. I mean, you saved me but you bit me, and did you know those were my favorite pajamas because rude much? And have you seen you? You are so very intimidating. And hot.” Derek’s lips quirked up a bit at the corners. He opened his eyes. Stiles took a breath, as though steadying himself. “And, my god, those fucking eyes.”

Stiles jerked on Dereks head, bringing his lips crashing down on the other mans. It hurt. Their teeth mashed against their lips with the force- Derek tasted blood. But he got it, the not so subtle hint that was what Stiles was wanting. And he wanted it. He wanted everything that Stiles was offering him and so much more that the teen probably didn’t even realize. But the danger… He knew the danger too. Unfortunately his wolf didn’t care about that, arrogant beast that it was, it saw no danger in claiming it’s mate. It’s bleeding mate.

Derek kissed Stiles then, not the mashing together of teeth, but the melding of mouths. The kind of kiss that was all about the warring of tongues and panting breaths, about frantic hands and whimpering moans. Their hands were everywhere- in each other’s hair, tracing down chests, pulling closer, pushing down.

Derek shredded what little remained of Stiles pajama bottoms, pushing the remnants out of his way. He lifted Stiles legs, hooking his knees over his forearms, hands gripping the thinner mans hips. His eyes were nothing but red. He pressed the tip of his cock against Stiles ass. Eyes met. Amber and crimson. Derek flicked his eyes down to Stiles chest, frowned. Shirt. He wanted flesh.

“Take it off,” he ground out. Stiles grabbed the hem of the shirt and started to lift it up and off. When his chest was bared, Derek pushed in. Everything froze. He only pushed into the head. But, fuck, it was tight. He was panting with need. Stiles was trembling, his shirt still covering his face. Derek pulled out.

“I said, take it off, Stiles.” He purred the name, letting it slip from his tongue like honey. Stiles trembling arms pulled the shirt over his face, revealing flushed cheeks and a slight daze to the eyes. Derek pushed the head of his cock back into Stiles ass. Stiles jerked, his fingers fisting in the tshirt. “Having some trouble?” The words came out with an animal growl. Derek began to to in and out of Stiles ass, always just the head, never deeper, not slow but not the fast pistoning that Derek craved. He settled into a rhythm, feasting his lips on Stiles neck and chest. He could come like this, he was sure, feeling the tight sheath slipping on and off his dick, but he wanted more. Craved it. He wanted to know all of Stiles. They were both panting the next time he pulled back, Stiles hole glistening with precum.

“Now, Stiles,” he growled against his throat. “I need you now!” He barely felt the nod against his cheek before he was pushing into Stiles ass. He was tight, and Derek went slow, pressing in at a glacial pace, every muscle in his body corded with strain, until he was seated to his base, Stiles moaning beneath him. The tight clench of Stiles ass was going to be his undoing. He couldn’t do it. He’d hurt him. With a curse, he flipped onto his back, carrying Stiles with him.

“You’re gonna have to ride me.” Derek smelled the spike in Stiles arousal at the words. He growled up at him when the other boy gave a wicked grin. Oh, he was in for torture, he was sure. He was right. The pace Stiles set was slow and maddening. He felt Stiles riding him to his soul, slow, up and down, a soft bounce. He was watching those sinful lips, watching Stiles teeth nibble nervously as he fucked him.

“Kiss me,” Derek gritted out the words, lifting one hand up to pull Stiles down to him. The kiss was passion and sex and need. Derek needed more. More of Stiles. More of it all.

With one hand he held Stiles head to his, feeding at the other mans mouth. The other hand gripped Stiles hip like a vise, lifting him up and down on Derek’s thrusts. It wasn’t easy, thrusting from his back, but it was better than the slow madness from before. Fast and hard, harder. Derek thrust up and jerked Stiles down at the same time. Drive into him. He knew there’d be bruises, knew that Stiles would feel this for days, and that just drove him faster. Derek could feel Stiles stroking himself between their bodies, his fist moving in time to Derek’s thrusts. Derek couldn’t take it. He broke away from Stiles mouth with a snarl, and sank his fangs into Stiles shoulder. Stiles whole body jerked  in response. And then they were coming- Stiles all over their fronts, and Derek into Stiles ass. Derek felt the swell of his knot forming. Growling around the mouthful of Stiles, he sat up, still holding Stiles in his lap, sliding his hands up to the other mans shoulders, holding tight, pressing down, forcing him more firmly onto his cock. Derek rocked his hips slightly, eagerly, felt Stiles limp form twitch, heard him moan. But Derek was gone and the wolf was present. He thrust softly, his hands keeping constant pressure on Stiles shoulders, pushing, thrusting. He’d claimed his mate. His. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to follow me on tumblr (theverbosequeen.tumblr.com) to get in on prompt opportunities and updates on upcoming oneshots and existing fic updates! :3


	8. The Rut Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is going into rut. It's an alpha thing. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for the super long break. No excuses. I apologise. Here's a chapter. More soon-ish. (Significantly sooner than last time, promise!)

Stiles came to consciousness slowly, mentally categorizing all the places his body ached. And then remembering why it ached. His heart kicked up again, recalling the night before- his first time- with Derek. Well, his first, second, and third times if he was completely honest. Derek had seemed insatiable, almost maddened. After the first time, he'd gone down on Stiles, bringing him to that burning edge of release before flipping him onto his knees and fucking him blind. Then he'd carried him to the shower, holding him up and washing him, stroking him, jerking them both off with their dicks pressed together and Stiles’ back against the cold tile wall. Just remembering made stiles breaths pant a bit, and definitely had the attention of his dick. He reached down to reposition himself when his mattress moved. 

A testament to how fucking out of it he was- he hadn't realized he was laying on top of Derek. With a boner. After having sex with him the night before. Stiles cheeks were flags of red across his face. He shifted a bit, peeking up at Derek. Slits of red stared back at him. Stiles bit his lip. He barely had time to nibble it nervously before he was flat on his back, Derek between his legs and pushing his hard cock against the sensitive rim of Stiles ass. Heat punched through Stiles gut. He hadn't realized how badly Derek wanted him, but if the last twelve hours were any indication, Stiles was gonna be walking funny for weeks.

Derek growled deep in his chest, his face shifting from mostly human to wolf. Stiles felt the bite of claws on his ass as Derek pushed in, slow, growling. But with no lube, little prep, and last night's fun, Stiles was sore through. He flinched, reaching up and pushing on Derek's chest. 

“Whoa, there, big guy,” he said. “Ease out and off.” Derek snarled, and kept pushing, half his dick in Stiles ass, a spreading burn. Shit. It hurt. “Derek! Off!” He didn't listen. Stiles didn't know what to do. Its not like he could muscle away, and the very real threat of the claws digging into his ass was present. What he'd give for a rolled up newspaper… “Derek, please,” he said, his voice soft as he tried to squirm away from the burning in his ass. “It hurts…” 

Everything froze. Derek stopped moving. Every muscle in his body seemed to be wound into a knot. Stiles heart was pounding. What the hell was going on?

“Stiles…” The word seems to have been pulled from the bowels of Derek's mind, and he sounds utterly wrecked. The sound makes stiles want to cry. Go fucking figure. Something good happens in his life and then something else has to fuck it up. Something is so very wrong with his sourwolf.

#

“Right here, big guy,” Stiles said. Derek shook his head, like a dog shaking off water. Something was wrong. He could feel it. His body was flushed with burning heat, his head filled with the minty tormenting scent of his mate. All Derek wanted to do was thrust back into the warmth of Stiles ass. To plug him up for days, filling him, breeding him… 

A tortured moan pulled itself from his lips. Fuck. He was in a rut. Probably mating Stiles last night had triggered it. He'd heard about the rut, but as an Omega and even a Beta, he'd had no need to worry. Ruts were an alpha problem.

He was panting with the effort of staying cognitive, of not forcing his dick into the too tight channel that was clenching and unclenching around him.  _ Fucking think, Derek! What do you remember about ruts? _ His mother had lectured them all about ruts a long time ago. Something about duration and mates, he was sure. Everything in threes she'd said. Three days, three times, with three days between. What the fuck was wrong with werewolf biology?

Stiles whimpered below him. It brought Derek out of his head to realize his hips had been pressing forward on their own. He froze, locking up every muscle in his body until he shook. Stiles hands were nervously petting at Derek's shaking chest.

“You in there, big guy?” Derek whined in response, dropping his head to inhale their mingled scents. It felt like a balm on the heat inside him, but Derek wasn't sure how long that would last.

“Stiles… You need to go,” Derek spoke slowly, dragging the words from his core. “I'm… rutting…” Derek was panting now, the combined effort of speech and not fucking his mate, who was right there. Stiles was his mate but they hadn't talked about anything yet. Stiles body hadn't undergone any of the mating enhancements. Being with Derek while he was rutting could literally kill him. 

“Rutting? Is that like a werewolf thing?” Stiles voice was nervous, pitching high on the final word. Derek nodded, fast and uncoordinated.

“Alpha… thing…” Derek moaned as Stiles shimmied up, pulling away from his dick. His claws dug into the bed with the effort to not take, claim, mark, breed his mate. Stiles was now kneeling on the bed beside him, inches away, hand resting on Derek's shoulder. It would be so easy... “Leave… slow…”

“What's going on, Derek? I'm not leaving until I know you're ok,” stiles said, voice hard and immovable. Derek's control cracked, just a bit. A growl crawled out of his chest as he bared his fangs. His Alpha was angry now. He'd given an order. To keep stiles safe. While he was in rut. Couldn't the fucking human just listen..? No, he was rubbing circles on Derek's back and they. Were. Not. Soothing! Derek snapped his teeth at Stiles who tumbled off the bed in his attempt to get away from the sharp incisors.

“You. Can't. Handle. The. Rut!” He barked out, each word clipped and angry. He hadn't saved Stiles from Peter just so he could kill him with sex or ra- no, he wouldn't finish that thought. He refused. Derek made a gasping choking noise. “I don't want to hurt you.” The words squeezed out of his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Please.”

“Ok.” Derek heard stiles get up. Heard him shuffling around in his dresser, presumably for clothes. Then he heard the unmistakable click of a bottle being opened, the wet sound of liquid squirting. Spicy mint burned his nostrils. Derek ground his teeth. If he didn't kill Stiles with fucking, he was going to fucking kill Stiles. He reluctantly opened his eyes when he felt movement on the bed. And immediately wished he hadn't as he came face to ass with Stiles pert, white bottom, the tight pink puckered hole oozing lube.

“I'm here for you, sourwolf,” came the tremulous whisper. Derek's control shattered like fine china hurled against a brick wall.


End file.
